Be Free, Be Raw, Be You
It sucks. And it will always suck.
Rejection does. And it’s fine.
It’s just another blow. One you can handle.
Just like when the wind is messing up with your hair. No damage.
Not much you can do either.
Just say “ok”. And try again.
It will come again and again.
And you’ll go back on the scene again and again.
Knowing that despite rejection, there’s nothing else you’d like to do differently.
There’s this think about writing that makes you see things and people and places and situations from a different perspective. You spot something, a word, an action; you catch a color, a sign. You create from real something that lives only in your imagination and that will touch people who know nothing about you, but would catch a glimpse of what makes you happy, fearful, angry or grateful.
I believe writing is not about pleasing others, about saying what others want to hear. But about taking off all the layers we keep to protect ourselves. If we can’t do this, if we keep turning around without speaking our truth, we might want to choose another road; we might need to find another way to express ourselves.
Cause if we can’t let go, we won’t enjoy the ride, we will never get to this space where we can stand naked in front of the sun, without being burned.
Sometimes writing feels like dipping your fingers in chocolate ice cream
It’s delicious till you can’t stand it
It’s sweet till you can’t eat it
It makes you happy till it makes you sick
It’s happening to me right now as I am in process of re-reading my manuscript. It’s not so much about the story, it’s more about finding the right word, organizing paragraphs, crossing off lines, writing differently. I love it tille I hate it.
So I stop, take a pause, find something else to do, till the passion is back and the paper is not a threat anymore.
And you, how do you see writing? Is it always easy or do you find yourself lost from time to time?
I used to write in English every day. I miss writing in English.
I love writing in French too. But it’s not the same. I miss the connection with something different, something that told me at some stage “you’re free”.
Maybe it has to do with not mastering all grammatical issues in this second language. In French it feels like I have to follow established rules and this triggers a bit the soul of what I want to say, of the stories I want to tell.
Anyway, this year I decided to write more, to write every day. Not for long, just 2, 5 or 10 minutes every day.
I already wrote 32 short stories, thoughts, poems, words…
I think I will keep doing it in French and I will start doing it in English here. I will let words, quotes, photos inspire me. I will let go and let God guide me on the road…
Till then, take care, love life, live fully every moment and smile!
Reading Anne Lamott makes you think. Of life and writing. Of mess, pain, darkness, craziness and…
On what writing means to you.
After finishing one of the chapters of “bird by bird”, I started thinking about what writing is for me.
It’s like breathing.
It’s like finding my voice.
It’s like looking inside, searching inside, catching a glimpse of what makes me sad, what is torturing me, what makes me want to shout out loud, what gives me goosebumps, what kills me and what makes me alive. All in once.
It’s like sharing, being part of the solution (whatever the question – doubt – worry is).
It’s like being authentic, letting go.
It’s like treasuring the silence.
It’s like talking over a warm coffee on a cold Saturday morning.
It feels like crying sometimes, losing battles or catching emptiness in the midst of chaotic days.
It’s like being human and celebrating life.
It’s like finding my balance, my truth.
It’s like acknowledging that I am a mess somedays and full of hope others.
It’s like peace at the end of a long ride.
It’s like touching my dark side.
It’s like healing, grieving, standing up and dancing at the sound of victory.
It’s a way to say Thank you. To the World. To God.
It’s like talking to God, talking to pain, talking to every single life I encounter.
I don’t always know what to say, how to say it. I am not always true to myself, to you. Somedays I’d rather like be somebody else, using others words and style. Till I set the alarm clock and take some rest, look around and decide that whatever happen in this world, I have this chance to be who I am and to be alive. As I stop, I take a deep breath. It’s time for me to open a note book and scribble down my thoughts on writing and what it takes to follow one’s dream.
What about you? What writing means for you?
Do you know Anne Lamott?
You know this urge, the one that nothing seems able to stop, and the one that keeps you awake till the morning like – the urge to write and empty yourself on the paper in front of you.
I felt it, just after Paris Attacks last November. I could not breathe without my pen in my hand and my heart wide opened to let go of all the pain inside me. I could not go out without fear attached to every part of my body. I could not make sense of all this blood on the pavements, all this craziness.
So I did the only thing I could do to overcome the painful sadness, the ugly anger. I kept writing till there was nothing left to say, to understand, to empty, to say, to shout out loud. I kept writing and re-writing and changing things and creating images in my mind. Typing and coming to terms with my own weaknesses, my dark side. Writing and finding the Light again.
Six months later I have it in my hands – my second poetry book. All is there. All that I want to tell you. All that I want to share, for a better and brighter world. I won’t let darkness, shadows, violence or hatred kill my faith and my ideals, my freedom and my love for Life and People. I’ll always stand up for what I believe in and what I wish to create, with my words, my voice and my life.
All the profits will go to a French Charity organization, created by the mother of a military man killed in 2012 by a terrorist. She is working with kids and young adults, visiting schools and prisons, promoting interreligious dialogue, peaceful coexistence and fighting against radicalization.
I wonder whether I should try to get these poems translated in English. It’s quite delicate. As words come in one language or the other. I don’t choose. In the meantime, feel free to share the love, peace and light that you and the world deserve!
Some days, I can spend hours reading amazing blog posts written by fabulous writers, scroll my Facebook and Instagram news feeds, watch great videos and learn new things.
Some other days, I can’t stand this non-ending flow of inforation, words, details, images, status, links to follow, comments to write.
Some days, I feel blessed to be able to connect with many lovely ladies and guys from all over the world – We are sharing so much together.
Some other days, I feel like I’m missing something right here, right now.
Some days, I wish to take in more wisdom, to celebrate life with you, you and you. I feel balanced and at peace. I feel new technologies have a beautiful way to change our lives (for the better).
Some othe days, I turn off all devices. I am looking for less noise around me and in me. I come to believe that all these technologies are pushing me the wrong way. I wish I could live without. I’m about to cancel all my accounts. I am losing my mind.
This is a never ending circle of love and hate relationship. When I catch myself spending a bus trip, my eyes stuck on my phone screen, I am about to scream.
And then I remember – You and I, we created such a special bond through our words. I recieve your love, support, kindness with a smile on my face. Sometime you even write them down on paper and I recieve them with great joy in my letterbox. Magical! Without Internet, We’d have never met. You: Crazy Amazing Beautiful Great Wise Loving friends.
With and without. With the best of it. Without, when I am losing track of my own footsteps on the ground.
Tell me, what is your relationship with blogs and social medias? Are you good at finding the right balance? Did you find it already? Or are you still searching for it?
Credit Image – Rubric
Writing is inspiring
It is taking you to spaces
And places
You’ve never imagined
You could reach one day
Writing is taking you
By surprise
Every time you witness
A beautiful sky
Or a tender touch
On your shoulder
Writing is showing you the world
Through others eyes
You travel around
With compassion
And an open heart
Ready to experience
The magnificence of life
Writing is like dancing
Letting the body draw different curves
And not so straight lines
Letting the body touch earth
With an open mind
Writing feels like
Talking to the angels
And yet
Being fully alive
So, what about these two crazy girls?
I call them “the girls” or “my girls”
They were 3 & 5 years old when I met them for the first time. I was leaving France to be an Au Pair in Ireland.
The first months were terrible. They could not stop begging for the previous Au Pair to come back. I was left on the side.
I remember this year as one of the most challenging yet the most fabulous one.
It was challenging to look after two little girls, to get used to a new kind of education, to understand and speak a new language, to find my place in a family and outside.
It was fabulous, cause with time, the girls and I, got used to each other and had much fun. I met sweet and lovely boys and girls. I did party more than I ever used to. I felt in love. I let love go. I travelled and enjoyed every day.
It was challenging when one of my best friend lost her dad, challenging when my grandad passed away.
It was fabulous to be able to express myself in a new language and be free, free and safe, free and at peace, free and dancing.
I stayed Au Pair one year. And I lived in Ireland five more years after this introduction year. I was part of their everyday lives. I was blessed to see them growing up. I was there every time a new Au Pair would show up in their lives. We were sharing something special. I was there for first day class in September and for Holy Communions, for Birthday and Pyjama Parties.
I spent my last days in Ireland with them. Their smiling faces got rid of the tears on mine. They are “my princesses”, “my girls”.
Two weeks ago, I took the plane again, back to Dublin. All the sad years are nothing compared to the love for this place, compared to friends & these two girls, now in their teenage years.
I arrived late and the keys were in the flower pot outside. This is my family across the sea. When I arrive in their place, I feel at home. In the morning, I woke up early and when I went down the stairs, I heard their footsteps. They rushed into my arms. I felt blessed.
Credit Image – Eleanor Bridge
I remember…
August 2006
Time to say goodbye. My life was about to change. For the best. And the worst. And the best again. You never know what Life is going to be. You only have to go with the flow. Wait and see. Then take action and do the best to be happy.
A sunny morning, at the airport (France). I had two bags, my family and my three best friends with me. I was about to make a step into an unknown world.
On the other side of the sea, two little girls were getting ready to welcome me.
I don’t have much left of this day, only memories, a photo, something inside my chest telling me “you’re crazy”. And many worries.
On the other side of the sea, the two girls were waiting, in a different airport, not sure whether they would like me.
I can still see myself, face against the airplane window, looking outside, at the tarmac, trying to relax and not understanding a word. I think I slept during the flight.
I did not know yet that I would do this trip many times; that I would go and come back to a place I would call mine.
My feet on the ground, in a stranger land. I could hear and feel my heartbeat. You would never know, till you experience it, how much two girls can be that scary!
And then the last line, past the luggage reclaims area, past customs. The rest of the world as you know it stays behind. You are playing with a range of new feelings and emotions.
I did not know that ten years later, I would do the same trip and meet two wonderful teenagers, waiting to welcome me.
